Of Youth
by Emma CS Me
Summary: "You and I could be good for each other." In which Japan forms a connection with a fellow nation... but it doesn't matter in the end. Japan and OC!Ethiopia, based on the Sugimura Affair. COMPLETE.
1. 1931

**Author's Notes:** So, this fic comes in 5 parts divided by year(s) covered. This one is more of a prelude than anything. Historical notes down the bottom.

* * *

_**1931**_

He is an old man and she is an old woman, yet they court one another with the timidity of youths.

They have been officially friends for a year and yet, he is surprised to see her standing on his shores. "It's cold here," she comments, wrapping arms around herself, braids in her hair keeping it from blowing into her face in the wind.

"I am further north than you." She nods as if to say _of course._ "The fact we are standing on a beach in winter cannot help. We may move inside, if it irritates you?"

"No. This is... nice." She closes her eyes for a second, lets the ocean spit upon her. She opens them again and extends a hand. "You know, you and I could be good for each other."

He takes her hand, which looks a little like his; thin hands, with long fingers. He smiles. "Yes. I believe we could."

* * *

_**1932**_

She is frightened. Not screaming and hysterical, for she is still proud, but there is no point in denying it.

She remembers when she fought the boy off. It's a moment of pride, because he was arrogant and stupid, because she is still capable of winning such a thing, because she is still _free_. But she remembers how humiliated the boy was, how unlike his grandfather, how desperately he needs to be strong and she is worried.

In some respects she knows she must change. She is an ancient, but the world has no room for ancients anymore; it is a world of blood and iron, and if she does not advance she will be consumed.

These modern nations have no concept of honour.

She's been told it would be a good idea to model herself upon Japan, and yes, it makes sense to her. They have so much in common – old, wary, empires who managed to defeat those who were 'supposed' to beat them (_Europeans_, she thinks with disdain).

Japan progresses, he strives forward in leaps and bounds. He refuses to be mocked. He walks forward into the modern era.

She should probably follow.

* * *

_**1933**_

There is something he likes about Ethiopia – the land, not the woman, although he is fond of her as well. But he is happy to be here, on warmer, older-looking plains. It reminds him of times that past, times that had to pass. He does not regret such things, but he indulges nostalgia every once in a while.

(He acknowledges he is likely over-romanticising her, but she doesn't seem to mind.)

"So, you'd like to stay here?"

She makes him blush – he does that too easily. "I'd like to see what can be grown here, what can be done," he explains cautiously and without emotion. "I would like us to work together. You did say, we could be good for one another."

"Hmm." She kneels down, collecting a handful of soil in her palm. He's not sure what she's doing.

"Ethiopia-san?"

"I am in trouble," she says, which he knows she wouldn't say if she was facing him. "I know that. I am – backwards, and undeveloped."

"You are wonderful!" he protests before he thinks better of it. He shouldn't be so emotional – he doesn't know why she inspires such a reaction.

She just laughs. "I know that. An ancient empire, full of history and tradition. But history won't keep me alive and I don't want those traditions wiped by some foreign power."

He realises who she is. The last independent state in Africa. The woman who fought off a European coloniser once, and now he dwells above her in his small little colony; he has only become more determined to gain recently, with his new leader and new movement. _Europeans_, he thinks with disdain.

(For a moment, he thinks of the Koreas, and Taiwan, and Manchuria. But no. It is different, for he needs to free them and he needs the room. He will believe that until his dying days.)

She stands again, and turns to him. "You will help me?"

He smiles, reaches his hand out again. She takes it, seeming bemused. "We are two coloured nations who need defense from foreign invaders, from encroachment. Of course I will help you. We must stand together, united; I will do all I can to help you survive."

They're both shocked by the passion of his speech – does he have that depth of feeling? Yet she accepts it with a courteous nod.

* * *

**Historical Notes:** Ethiopia defeated Italian invasion of their country in 1895 at the battle of Adwa, humiliating the Italian military. Ethiopia and Japan signed a treaty of commerce and friendship. The Ethiopian foreign minister, visiting Japan in 1931, emphasised the potential benefits of cooperation for both countries. This appealed to Japanese nationalists, including those who wanted an alliance of the "coloured nations" of the world. Ethiopian intellectuals viewed Japan as a model to base potential modernisation off of.

More next chapter!


	2. 1934

_**1934**_

* * *

"Have you heard that we are planning on marrying?"

It startles him enough that he chokes on his tea. Attempting to recover his dignity, he gives a small "Pardon?"

She laughs. "Well, apparently a prince of mine is going to marry one of your nobles. Something like that."

_Oh._ "Oh yes, I have heard of that." He tries to downplay his embarrassment, which she seems to allow. "Your way of phrasing surprised me a little."

"I'm sorry," she says, "it's just that people have been so melodramatic about it – I may as well play along."

"Hmm?" _Have _I_ been melodramatic about it?_ Because he does know how excited his people have been, this newfound fondness for Ethiopia they embrace, and he hopes he has not made himself ridiculous in her eyes. But really, he thinks he is being paranoid.

"You'll see," but her smile falters for a moment. It worries him. "But I wouldn't mind, you know. If we were to marry."

"O-oh?" Now he is definitely embarrassed, and unsure what she means. He has never prided himself on his skill at the personal side of politics.

"Well, we are friends and we are pledged to help one another. You're investments in my country... You are helping me into the modern age. I could do worse."

There, she phrases it in terms he finds easier to deal with. "Indeed. And you are... A union of coloured peoples is beneficial to both of us, to defend us from foreign aggression."

"We have to stick together, right?" He nods. "Though we might not want to say that too loudly."

He cocks his head to the side.

* * *

She really hates Eritrea.

All things considered, she's being unfair, but the feeling surges throughout her anyway. _Traitor_. Eritrea would fight her, would fight her for _him_; for the man – boy, he is nothing but a boy – who wishes to enslave her, who _has_ enslaved Eritrea herself and believes he has the right to any piece of Africa he wishes.

(Put like that he does sound like his grandfather, but his grandfather has been dead for over a thousand years and hence it's different.)

Eritrea is just another one of these modern nations, no solidarity; just this modern lack of honour that makes her sick.

What she hates the most about Eritrea, however, is where she is. Right over the border, letting him linger there; letting little Italy wait, resent, prepare to take what he couldn't initially. It frightens her. If he was still in his little peninsula where he belongs, it would be easier. She could breathe quietly. But no.

She acknowledges this isn't really Eritrea's fault, being a colony. She doesn't think that would stop her if she got her hands on the girl. Sometimes, she frightens herself.

* * *

"Hey, hey! Japan! Hey Japan! Japan!"

Italy is so loud, and has little respect for people's boundaries; he is deeply annoying. Japan awards him the appropriate courtesy anyway. "Greetings, Italy-san. Whatever is the matter?"

"Ve? Ooh, hi!" Italy's extreme amount of energy makes him nervous. "I just, ha, I wanted to talk to you."

_About what?_ he thinks, but it would be impolite to say it aloud. "I see," he says calmly, waiting for Italy to begin the conversation properly.

Italy seems awkward, as if he's not sure what to say first. "...So, you've been doing lots of stuff with Ethiopia lately."

Japan swallows. This does not surprise him, not in the least, and he was sure he would have to defend her verbally eventually. So why is it frightening? "Indeed, I have... Forgive my impoliteness, but I fail to see how it concerns you."

Italy smiles. "Ah, it's nothing really... Just, you know. She's right there, beneath my bit of Somaliland. It's kinda scary! That, you know, you're becoming really important to her."

Japan blinks. "I did not know I frightened you." _But of course I frighten you; I'm the Yellow Peril, remember? And I aid and abet the woman dared to defy the fact Europeans are innately superior._

Italy pouts at him. "Don't be mean; I'm not scared of you! Well, any more than I'm scared of everything, heh." Japan waits to find out what exactly his point is anyway. "I just don't like the thought of her forming such a strong alliance. But it doesn't matter! I mean, you two are too far away from each other to really _do_ anything right?"

...He has a point there.

* * *

She is beginning to be confused as to what Japan's ambitions actually are for her. He speaks so much – he wants his people to live here, he wants to invest in her, he wants them to unite against the whites. No-one ever told her how much he could talk. But so little has happened that she worries about his honesty – a grand total of twenty-six Japanese people have come to her country. Truly an awe-inspiring figure.

But he does seem excited about the marriage. It rather surprises her; she acknowledged it, and moved on. He – despite his reluctance to show it openly – has a sensation within him, amongst his people, about it. She sees no problem with that – but it is not exactly what she needs right now.

It is not as if the two have actually married.

They have angered people like this and she knows it, and she's not sure how much that matters to him. Italy is furious about someone interfering in her affairs – someone other than him, of course. Italy wants so badly to take her over, and despite what Japan says about their unity she is beginning to think he could. And she doesn't see how Japan would stop him.

* * *

"So, uh – is it true you and Ethiopia are like, gonna get hitched?"

Japan is barely used to not balking at America's bluntness. He supposes it is only the boy's nature, but it is still difficult to deal with. "I – pardon? No, no it is not," he says before realising a more full explanation may be in order. "I mean... a prince of hers wishes to marry a noble lady of mine. It is not endorsed by government, nor is it of any political significance. My apologies, America-san, if you were in anyway misled."

"Huh." America dwells on these facts for a moment, and Japan averts his gaze. He feels as if he has been dishonest, but isn't that the truth? The marriage will not truly matter. The man is in fact not even a prince so much as a lord, and nothing to do with the throne. And given all the criticism they have faced for it, it's unlikely the marriage will even go ahead at this point.

America breaks into a grin. "Okay, cool man! Just, y'know, Italy's been going on and on about it. It's kinda scary, y'know? But then again it's only Italy. But he's just being all paranoid and thinking of you as a threat, and you _know_ how 'rargh must make part of empire' he is about her."

_That all sounds so unlike Italy,_ he thinks, but then again how Italy acts and what he does have always been very different. "Indeed," he says. "Well, Italy is still to some extent a friendly state. I do not wish to isolate him; I am no threat."

* * *

Japan takes her to walk in a garden in Kyoto, surrounded by the cherry blossoms. It is beautiful. She knows how he feels about this city, token of his life before modernisation. She supposes she understands that. Things always seem easier, simply long ago; though they rarely ever were.

It's calm, peaceful, serene, and he looks as if he wants to hold her hand. He would always be too shy to do so, however, and perhaps she is as well. She doesn't want to frighten him. Nonetheless they walk contentedly side by side, as he points out different native plants of his and she quietly complains about the cold.

"Hi Japan! I was wondering if you would be here, heh. Your garden is really pretty!"

_What is he doing here?_ is her first thought, and she gives Japan an alarmed look. He doesn't respond. He turns around and greets Italy with a small smile. "Hello, Italy-san. Thank you."

"You're welcome! Hey, are you doing anything?" Italy is determined to ignore her, and she lets this infuriate her more than it should. She still exists, she's still alive.

"We were just going for a walk," she snaps, and he blinks at her as if he hadn't noticed she was there. "Why are you here?"

He pouts. "I was walking too?" Japan places a hand on her shoulder, _calm down_. She brushes it off, because frankly why should she?

Italy blinks at her a few more times. "Ve... was I interrupting something?" He sounds as chirpy and innocent as ever, but she hears the undertones and becomes frightened again. "Why is she allowed to walk here and not me?"

The question's meant for Japan, but she feels the need to interrupt. "It's different. He and I are–"

_What are we, really?_ Friends is what she meant to say. Friends. But she's not sure whether or not that applies to Italy as well.

In the middle of her silence, Japan finally steps in. "My apologies. Ethiopia-san is having a bad week, do not blame her for her behaviour." Italy smiles and nods, while Ethiopia wonders why he thinks she cannot speak for herself. _What is he doing?_

"Ve, that's okay. Hey, can I walk with you two?" _No!_ Ethiopia doesn't want him walking with her, she doesn't want him anywhere near her, but Japan seems utterly unaffected.

"Of course you may."

She wants to scream. "Ah, I'm sorry Japan," she says, distancing herself from his side. "But I have official business to conduct whilst I'm here; I really ought to get back. I will see you later, yes? And sorry I couldn't stay for longer, Italy. And for my rudeness. It was nice to see you."

He seems confused by her sudden courtesy, which is comforting. "Yeah, you too," he says. "Say hi to Eritrea for me? I haven't been able to get there for awhile."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Goodbye, Ethiopia-san," Japan says quietly. She smiles and nods before walking away.

When she reaches the entrance of the park, she turns her head for a moment, and realises Japan is still staring at her.

* * *

**Historical Notes:** In 1934, an Ethiopian "Prince" (more accurately a lord, with no connection to the royal family) professed a desire to marry a noble Japanese lady. This caused a sensation in Japan, while alarming European powers - especially Italy - about the political implications, as well as Japan's commercial penetration of Ethiopia. During the first Italo-Abyssinian War, Ethiopian troops treated Italian captured soldiers relatively well, but committed atrocities against Eritrean troops, who were viewed as traitors. A commercial inspection of Ethiopia by Japan, while optimistic about commercial opportunities, found Japan was too far away from Ethiopia to influence imperialist ambitions there. A message sent to the US ambassador distanced itself from Ethiopia.


	3. 1935

_**1935**_

England and France appear to be speaking for the League. Fitting, she supposes.

Italy keeps playing with his fingers and it bothers her. "Stop fidgeting," she snaps, which startles him.

"Ve, why do you care?"

A fair point. Perhaps she would like to feel like he's paying attention.

It's no matter now, however, because England and France have come back in, both looking heavy in soul and shoulder. "Well?" she asks, impatient and anxious. "Has the League reached a decision?"

She knows she was in the right – the Wal Wal fort is beyond the limit of their boundary; he's not supposed to be their. England, he was there with her and protested – but he had to withdraw, of course, it would cause an 'incident'. _Europeans_.

"Have you arbitrated like she said?"

There's a moment where England and France look at each other, weary and tired and exasperated, like old men. It's funny, because she thinks she is older than both of them. Maybe. She doesn't know how old they are.

"We have... found neither of you are at fault."

She's not sure how to respond for second.

"But she shot at me!"

She responds quickly. "He attacked me with tanks and planes!"

France motions them to shush before it becomes a row. "Please, please; let us not do this." He tries to smile, but it's fake. Everything about them is oh so _fake_. "You two did agree not to fight? You are common league members, oui, so let us forget this troublesome business. You both merely believed the land was within your borders; such things can be settled."

_Can they?_ she wonders. If she can take any comfort from this, it's that Italy does not seem happy with the result either – he's pouting. "She was meant to pay me. And apologise."

"What would I apologise to you for, cretin?"

France steps in again before another fight breaks out. "Stop, stop, please!" He sighs, and she suddenly feels a surge of rage at being treated like a quarrelling child. Who is this man, with his blond hair and sapphire eyes, to decide he knows what she should do? Yes, she was the one who appealed for arbitration. That logical argument fades away in the face of _anger_. She wants things to be put right, and if the League cannot do that she will do it herself.

But no. She is not strong, not advanced enough for that.

(Not modern enough.)

Italy sighs, and takes up his trademark grin. "Eh, that's okay then! See you later, big brother France, England! Ciao!"

He goes bounding out the door as if none of what happened meant anything for him – perhaps it didn't. England peers at her curiously, as if wondering whether she'll adopt a similar tactic.

She stands up, straightens her spine. "I hope you know your League is useless," she says.

England looks to France. France makes eye contact with him for a second, before turning back to Ethiopia, smirking. "I do my best, madame." But beyond that, behind the sardonic wit and carelessness, there is something – _pained_–

No.

She won't feel sorry for them if they feel forced to abandon her.

She storms out.

* * *

Manchukuo has become his land, an industrial powerhouse and useful strategically. It is not recognised, not exactly – Russia almost has, but not in such words; plus two small nations half the world away he's ashamed to say he does not know more about – but it has become necessary to acknowledge it. Even China, angry and sullen as he is, must acknowledge Manchukuo – begrudgingly, but he has no choice.

It pains him somewhat, to think of China. There was once a time he looked up to him more than any man in the world. But he has become weak, and manipulated, and dominated – the great empire is no longer even an empire; a fractured country split in half by communists and nationalists, and the ever-watching eye of those foreign colonialists. No. Japan would never be China. Japan would give anything not to be China.

(He would give China, not to be China.)

It is good he's developed this base in mainland Asia. It will help him later.

The League did not acknowledge Manchukuo – eventually. He resigned over that, simply left. The League has always been useless. Still, he feels as if he is becoming isolated.

* * *

Italy hasn't left Walwal. It infuriates her, enrages her, it – it frightens her. God, she is so sick of being frightened.

She still turns to the League. "He is building up troops," she says. "In Eritrea, and his part of Somaliland... He is _mobilising_. On my border. Please, you must do something!"

She is not one for begging in front of large groups of people. It took awhile to even have Italy agree to arbitration – again. She reeks of desperation, but she finds herself with nothing else she can do. She is unmodernised, underprepared; she cannot fight a war...

And she has no allies.

There are whispers and murmurs that she can't quite interpret. It seems as though they feel bad for her, though with a certain colonial reluctance – what is she but another African state to be conquered and crushed? One girl seems to be fuming for her, though Ethiopia gets the impression that might just be her usual personality.

England and France, as ever, are whispering to one another with frowns upon their faces. She knows why the act the way they do – they need Italy, because they fear Germany; they fear living their Great War over again. They will sell her out to save their own skins. France has signed his own treaty – he gives Italy a free hand with her in the _hope _Italy will do something to protect him from Germany. None of this surprises her. The whole world is in the grip of fear – except Italy, who might just be too _stupid_ to be afraid.

"Um, Ethiopia? Arbitrating kind of... takes awhile." She glares down at Italy, who's adopted his innocent look, which does not please her. "Maybe we should go somewhere else?"

She tries so hard to remain calm at these things. "Very well," she says. "Just _think_."

* * *

Korea despises him. It is only to be expected – the South is emotional and the North is _proud_, two things that do not combine well. But it's not his fault. They were backwards and unadvanced and... He wishes to help them, really. They are better of as part of him. They are entering the modern era.

(There has been violence, and war, and the cries of children and strange experiments and burning churches with people in them – but it is best not to dwell on such things.)

If he is to be completely honest, he needs Korea. He needs the land. He needs somewhere else, somewhere to own and control, to use to his own benefit. He needs to be capable of that. Only then can he deal with the Western powers on their own terms, to fight them out of Asia – and is that not what his brothers want? Yes, he is fighting _for_ them. The means may not be pleasant, but he cannot forget that.

It is a facet of the modern era.

* * *

They've been told to discuss matters with one another, to find a route to peace. She finds herself unable to bother. She knows he wants nothing more than to declare war on her – why should she bother playing these games? She needs someone outside to intervene, which never happens.

Instead, she tries to take a nap in her conference chair. She's been stressed so much lately, laying awake at night; perhaps if she's directly confronted by it, she can actually sleep – without the fear of the unknown.

"Uh, Ethiopia? ...Are you okay?"

She peers open one eye. "What do you want?" she asks. "You've proven you won't stop in your plans to conquer me. You may as well let me sleep first."

"No, seriously," he says, pouting again. "Can I get you a glass of water or something? You look... sick."

She has to laugh. "Italy – you are obviously planning on invading me, building up troops within my borders, we both know how unprepared I am – and you wonder that I seem unwell?"

He rolls his eyes. "You make everything so country-like," he says, which makes no sense to her whatsoever. "I'm trying to be nice! Get a glass of water for the lady who's having a bad time. I mean, this whole thing – it's not _personal_. It just... uh... happens?"

Now she's very confused. "...What _do_ you want?" she asks. "I don't understand you! How can you think you have some right to me, how can you think – I am old, Italy, older than you can imagine. I knew your grandfather, do you realise? He gave me my religion. And you are nothing like him, if that's your intention. I don't know what you think but I am not something to just be added to your empire; I am _better_ than that–"

"Ve, are you?" _...What kind of question is that?_ "I mean, you said. You're old. Old and backwards and... basically useless, right? So why shouldn't I absorb you? I mean, eventually – it has to be your time, right?"

They stare at one another across the table, and she realises how foreign this is to her. The seats, the clothes, the desperate attempt to manipulate her way out of war – it's not something she's done before, in her millenia of existence. So? Is he right?

No. Because these things are foreign to all, diplomacy and compromise and – they are things that must be done, and she is not beyond the modern era any more than anyone else. When she closes her eyes, she feels the hot wind and stands on the plains. But she's sure when Italy closes he eyes, he's on his beaches in the south or the Alps in the north as well.

"Not yet," she says. "Though nice try. But I will not die that easily, I'm sorry."

"...Oh." He sounds so disappointed.

* * *

It's all a matter of politics, in the end. He understands and accepts that.

Now if only it didn't make him feel slightly ill.

Italy is shifting from foot to foot, impatient. It makes Japan dizzy, does not help his nausea – he wishes he wasn't here. He isn't sure why this bothers him so. He knows what he must do.

"So," Italy pulls a face, fiddles with his fingers. "We're talking about Ethiopia, right? Because... you two are friends or something, and, uh... Ve, I'm really bad at saying stuff like this."

"You do not wish me to interfere?" Italy grins and nods wildly at that. Japan sighs, and closes his eyes for a moment.

Why did he wish to be close with her to begin with? An alliance against foreign powers, against those that would conquer and suppress them. Against _Europeans_. No matter that conquer and suppress is what he must do now in any case. He supposes, he saw in her a part of himself he had to leave behind – something untouched and ancient, a relic of other times. Less fearful times. He said he would help her progress, but if he did so, what would be the point of her? It is too late now in any case. Some part of him wants to believe she can win – the part of him that believes in honour and bravery more than technology and ruthlessness. The people despise what he is doing now. They care for her – for it, for Ethiopia, and all he feels is what they do. It is humanity. His humanity that feels for this woman, but he supposes that has no place in politics.

"Japan? Japan, don't be sad!" Italy snaps him out of his reverie. "It's just Ethiopia, right? You guys – you didn't have an actual treaty, or many people moving, or _anything_." He pauses. "I mean, you've done way worse to people you like. Your family and all? Aren't they going to hate you after all this?"

He is right. What is the difference between him and Italy, honestly? They are both invading and occupying convenient lands for the sake of prestige and development. Japan likes to feel he has been driven to it, that he has no choice, that it is conquer or be conquered, but does not the same apply for every nation? He has no right to condemn Italy for what he does, and Ethiopia is so far away and so irrelevant to him – at heart, it is none of his business.

His people are furious, of course. They care for the African empire, and hence _he_ cares for her; he embodies their anger. But, he supposes, since when have the people decided what must be done? Circumstance is his dictator, and he is cruel and arbitrary.

"I mean, there was your prince and princess you were gonna get married, but..."

That snaps Japan out of it. "It was not a prince and princess. The Ethiopian man's title translates to _Lord_ in English; he was referred to as prince only in my nation. And he wished to marry a noble Japanese lady, not necessarily a princess. It was of no political importance and the idea has long since fallen through, so I do not know why you would raise the issue."

And there it is. He has wiped his hands of her completely.

He sighs. "You are right. I have no interest in Ethiopia, and a great deal of admiration for your institutions, Italy-san." Italy smiles at that. We do what we must for politics. "This conflict is nothing to do with me. You need not fear my interference."

"Hooray!" He wishes Italy wasn't so excitable; it really is making him nauseous. "So. Friends?"

Italy outstretches a hand. Japan thinks about Ethiopia; about her smile when she asked him about the marriage, about how she let the ocean spit upon her, about how charmed she was by the cherry blossoms.

He takes Italy's hand, which doesn't look much like his; slightly larger, but with shorter fingers. "Friends."

* * *

She is alone. The League has done nothing. She has no allies to call on. Japan – Japan has abandoned her, as has the world. But she is still brave, and still noble; still an ancient empire that has fought such threats longer than this one has been alive. She defeated him once and she can do so again. At the very least, she must try.

So, alone and terrified, she prepares to fight.

* * *

He isn't expecting to see her again. Surely, she has better things to do; she must be waiting for the war. So to see her upon his doorstep... It is a shock, to say the least. Still, he is nothing if not courteous, and gives her entry. They stand far apart from one another now, cold.

"Italy's almost ready," she says, before he can make formalities. "I can sense it. He'll invade before the end of the year."

He swallows hard. "...I'm sorry," he says. _Is there anything I can do?_ he thinks, but he doesn't want to mock her.

She buries her face in her hands, looking like she barely has energy to stand upright. He should offer her a chair, but he gets the impression it would take longer to get one than she will actually be here for.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she admits. "Perhaps I just wanted to see you again."

"...Oh." Against his better reasoning, he blushes, as if this is still the time when such behaviour is appropriate. "Well, I am here."

She rolls her eyes at his stupidity. He is so very uncomfortable. "I know you won't help me," she says, which makes him cringe. "You probably couldn't if you tried. Too far away, and too concerned with your own interests. I don't know why you suddenly attached yourself to me. It did neither of us any good in the end."

"I'm _so_ sorry." It's all he can say now, and he remembers when they met on the beach; _you and I could be good for one another._ But they weren't. He knows very well that he let her down.

"I know," she smiles a little. They are both ancient, but he's always somehow gotten the impression she's older than him; that she knows things he does not. Perhaps they're both old, but she has _aged_. Aged, and edging slowly towards death. _Stop it,_ he tells himself. Morbidity will get him nowhere.

"..._Is_ there anything I can do?" It's a desperate question, a pathetic one, one that will most likely be taken wrongly, but he doesn't mind debasing himself. He wants to show her something, that he still cares, that the things that are happening – they hurt him, it _aches_.

She laughs, then falls silent as if she just thought of something. "Say it," she says. He's confused. "You only promised neutrality, right? Everyone knows anyway. Say you support me. Go on."

He does. He wants her to win, he wants her to escape, he wants her to survive. He wants all of it. But the reality of the situation hits him: of politics and alliances, of negotiation of diplomacy. To even say such a thing would invoke anger. And he has chosen against that.

Her hand is outstretched, just like Italy's. He shakes his head and backs away. "I can't."

She blinks. Her hand drops, and she accepts it with a sigh. "I expected as much," she says. "Goodbye Japan. Goodbye, and good luck."

She bows before she leaves – he doesn't know why. She walks out into the garden, and everything's as if she was never there at all.

* * *

**Historical Notes:** In December 1934, there was a clash between Italian and Ethiopian troops at Wal-Wal, an Italian fort built over the border between Eritrea and Ethiopia. Both sides blamed each other for the violence, Ethopia demanded an apology and Italy demanded financial compensation. Ethiopia appealed to the League of Nations for arbitration, which found neither side was at fault as both genuinely believed Wal-Wal to be within their borders. In 1933 the League of Nations adopted the Lytton Report, stating Manchuria was still rightfully part of China and condemning Japan's invasion of the area. This led to Japan resigning its membership. China never recognised Manchukuo, but established official ties with it for trade. Ethiopia repeatedly appealed to the League of Nations for arbitration, while Italy prepared for an invasion; Britain and France were reluctant to punish Italy for fear of losing it as a potential ally against Hitler's Germany. Japanese propaganda justified the invasion of Korea by saying it was backwards and in need of modernisation. Many atrocities were committed in the occupation. Christianity was introduced to Ethiopia by the Roman Empire, and is the majority religion there. In 1935 Japanese foreign minister Sugimura assured Mussolini Japan had no interests in Ethiopia and pledged to remain neutral in the coming conflict. This caused a furor inside Japan, where there was affinity for Ethiopia. In August of that year Japan denied a request by the Ethiopian government to publicly state support for Ethiopia.


	4. 1936

_**1936**_

She finds herself in front of the League again. It shouldn't surprise anyone – the League has been where she's turned throughout, though it's done nothing for her. They imposed sanctions when Italy invaded. But she is defeated, and her emperor has fled; she isn't sure what she's speaking here for. She doesn't want this invasion – is oppression, this violation – to be recognised, but if Italy's forced her to surrender she does not know what the rest of the world can do.

Her Emperor has fled. They have not given up, are still managing these issues, but her empire is lost. For now. And she does what she must.

"The Empire of Ethiopia."

A man she thinks she vaguely knows, but can't recall properly introduces her. He seems to have fangs, which should make him memorable, but nevermind. There are frenzied murmurs and France and England leaning to one another – them and their conspiracies. She knows that they're stunned by her still being here, now she's been subdued – shouldn't she be back home, waiting to be taken control over?

Beneath it all, though, she hears – giggling. As most nations settle down, it only becomes more obvious. The two Italies, collapsing into one another's arms and laughing.

She balls her fists.

"What Empire?" snorts Italy Romano, and his brother cackles wildly. No-one else responds. The boy who introduced her stares gobsmacked.

"...Do you mind?" he says, taking her arm, and the Italies – do not look ashamed, exactly, but she sense enough to shut up. The young man sighs and leads her to the podium, and she smiles at him for being so courteous.

Then, all eyes are on her. "Good evening, fellow nations," she begins, only to see Veneziano whisper something to his brother she can't hear.

She swallows and carries on.

"I'm sure you are all aware of my current circumstances. The conflict between–" She's cut off by Veneziano breaking into loud laughter, echoing in the room. "...I'm sorry, do I amuse you?"

"Pretty much!" shouts Romano, to a frenzied "Shh!" from his brother. They're still giggling though, like they cannot stop. They're drunk. If their behaviour did not tell her this, the wine stains down Italy Veneziano's shirt would. They must have been celebrating their victory – that is what one _does_ after a victory. Yet she despises them as much for their joy at having conquered her as for their simply having done it.

"...As I was saying," she continues, but only gets that far.

"What's that? Speak up!"

"Per favore, could you try saying it in Italian?" At this mock courtesy, the break up giggling again. She stomach revolts. _I can't do this._

"Por Dios, what is wrong with you two?!" says the young woman from before, leaning over the desk to grab Romano's collar. He appears fearful, for a moment.

"Ve, sorry," says Veneziano. "Such a pretty woman as you shouldn't be so angry." The woman rolls her eyes while Romano mutters something about _temperamental bitch_. Ethiopia's a little confused, as well as realising how few of the people here she actually knows.

Once quiet is regained, she starts speaking again. "The conflict between myself and Italy has been going on for over a year now, and I have appealed to the League throughout; you are all familiar with it. I speak to you today asking for the justice–"

"She says it so funnily!" They're shrieking into each others shoulders again and her blood boils, she spits, she hisses–

"Get out!" The man with the fangs rages with her, storms over, grabs them both. "_Go!_ To the door with the savages!"

It's all a flurry of movement before the Italies are thrown out and the door slammed behind them. The young man (god she wishes she were better with names) exhales deeply, and the nations are all stunned into silence. He turns back around, and gives her a small smile.

"I'm sorry for that. You may continue."

She too is stunned, until she decides to simply step back up to the podium and continue her speech.

"Thank you. As I was saying, I ask for the justice that was promised to my nation many months ago on the outbreak of this war, as well as that which was promised by the League and the concept of collective security. The sufferings of my people have been vast in this invasion, including suffering due to the use of gas weaponry, which all nations made most solemn promises should never be used against fellow human beings. I pray to the Lord almighty to spare such sufferings from other nations. Now, for the last twenty years I have struggled to achieve modernisation – I even concluded a treaty of friendship with Italy, which prohibited the use of force against one another. I've come a long way since I joined this League in 1923, and I hope you all recognise that."

Her fellow nations give one another uncomfortable looks – perhaps they know about her enough to judge, perhaps they don't. Given her problems with names she can't say she blames them. "But Italy has never made efforts for honest diplomacy with me. Their treaties have not been genuine, and they have been preparing for this conquest for years. The Wal-Wal incident – something that by any reasonable standard was not my fault, but certain nations saw Italy as a crucial ally and allowed that to sway their decision."

England and France have the decency to look ashamed at that. She doesn't expect it will change their reaction one way or another, but it is good to know. "Before the war, I believed in the League to save me. No matter the inferiority of our resources, the fifty most powerful nations on Earth could deal with one aggressor. I did not make preparation for war due to this faith, and I am certain that is the case for other small countries." _I am not small!_ shouts her mind, but she realises that objectively, she is.

"When war came closer, I realised my mistake and tried to acquire necessary supplies. But many nations dedicated themselves to stopping me! I have never asked for any other nation to give it's children's blood to defend me, only asked for the means so I may defend myself. The nations who have interest in Italy have turned against punishing him – abandoning me to my aggressor. The League required itself to come to the aid of the victim of aggression in such a situation; is this covenant being respected?"

She breathes in deeply. She's allowing her anger to run away with her. "But this is a greater problem than simply me, and my struggle against Italian aggression." That gets all of their attention. "When I, and other nations entered this League, we placed our faith in the principle of Collective Security to protect us. If that principle is abandoned, for it defies the interests of the nations with strength and resources to impose it – it is not merely myself being left to my fate, but all weak peoples under threat from strong foreign threats. It is not a matter of nations being unable to stop Italy, but being unwilling to. Will the League really sacrifice morality, make a precedent of bowing before force? Some have argued that the Covenants that need reform, but it is not the Covenants so much as the willingness to obey them. I request the Assembly to take measures to ensure respect for the covenant, I protest the violations of treaties which have left me in this position, I declare that my nation shall not bow before force..."

She sighs, closes her eyes. Her speech is almost over now. "And I ask: what will you do for me? For any small country, relying on you – on all of you – for protection? What would the Great Powers do to save one irrelevant nation?"

They're all staring at her – with fear, sadness, resignation. She gulps. "It is us today. It will be you tomorrow," she says. "So what do you say to my people?"

* * *

It becomes a matter of exchange. Two nations recognise each other's victories, and hence give themselves that smooth working relationship. Japan could do with allies after all, and if Britain and France were so desperate to obtain Italy's help there must be some reason for it.

"I'll protect your interests and everything," Italy chirps. "I mean, you did put all this effort into her. The marriage and everything. Ve! It's kinda cute."

Italy doesn't trust him. That's fine. Japan does not trust him either. "Indeed. Well, I suppose that is that, Italy-san."

"Yeah!" Italy is grinning, then frowns. "Wait, how do we do this?"

Japan blinks. "We simply state we recognise the other's... region of interest. Have you not done this before?"

"Of course I have! I just forgot, that's all!" He seems genuinely offended for a moment, but then carries on like nothing happened. "Well I, the Kingdom of Italy – no, the _Italian Empire_ – hereby recognise Manchu State. Your turn, Japan."

Japan takes a deep breath. "And I hereby recognise the Italian Empire... and Italian sovereignty over Ethiopia."

There. It is done. "Yay!" says Italy and Japan steps back in case the man tries to hug him or something like that. "Ve, so I guess she's mine now! Ha! My king is her emperor. Long live the Emperor of Ethiopia!"

* * *

It's somewhat uncomfortable, lingering about after the meeting is finished. But whereas can she go? Not back home. Not yet, in any case.

"Hey. You." She's surprised to here a voice coming from above her, and looks up. It is the young woman from before. "Are you okay?"

Ethiopia only sighs and the woman walks around, takes a seat at her table. They don't say anything for a few moments. "This is awful," the girl eventually blurts out, "just awful. How dare he do this to you, to anyone? And of course, no-one's gonna stop him because they're too fucking scared of Germany, so they're just going to _abandon_ you and it's not–"

"Excuse me," Ethiopia says. "I don't mean to be rude but: who are you?"

"...Mexico," says the girl. "I was getting that indication in there, actually. You're not great with names, are you?"

_Hmph!_ thinks Ethiopia indignantly. "Well for several thousand years I did not know most of these people; they were completely outside my sphere, so forgive me for not having quite adjusted to the new status quo yet."

"Yeah, true," says Mexico. "I guess I'm younger than you; new world, so I was raised with an advantage there."

Ethiopia cocks her head to the side. "If you don't mind me asking – how old are you?"

Mexico sighs. "Well... There's unspeakably ancient cultures within my boundaries, and I am descendant of them. But that's the same for everyone, I suppose. I myself only date back to when Spain showed up, and all the _wacky funtimes_ that ensued. So I suppose I'm around five hundred?"

Ethiopia has to laugh. "Why, you're a child!" And she watches as the girl blushes.

"Shut up! It's not _my_ fault."

"True, true." And suddenly, she is melancholy again. "But... there is nothing to be ashamed of in that. In fact, I don't think us nations should be as proud of age as we are. For what happens to old men and women? They become cynical, hopeless. No. It is not the wisdom of our elders we rely on..." And her thoughts flash back, to a man as old as her who she trusted to help her, who was going to bring her into the modern age. She closes her eyes. "...It is the wisdom of our youth."

* * *

**Historical Notes: **Italy declared victory in Ethiopia in 1936, and Emperor Haile Selassie fled, delivering a speech directly to the united nations decrying the Italian aggression and use of gas weaponry, and the international community's lack of response. At the League of Nations meeting where he gave this speech, Italian journalists shouted insults at him and had to be expelled before order could be restored (the Romanian chairman famously said: "to the door with the savages!") Japan recognised the Italian Empire including Ethiopia in exchange for Italian recognition of Manchukuo, and Italy promised to protect Japanese interests in Ethiopia. The only nation to at no point ever recognise Italian sovereignty over Ethiopia, and to strongly condemn it from the beginning, was Mexico.**  
**


	5. 1958

_**1958**_

She turns up once again on his doorstep, standing before him as an equal and fellow nation.

He's the first to look away.

"I confess, I am not sure what to say," he murmurs, and she is silent for a long moment.

"...I think 'hello' might be a good start."

He raises his head once again to find her gaze remains icy cold. Nonetheless, he forces himself to smile. "Indeed. Forgive my impoliteness. Greetings, Ethiopia-san; I have not seen you for awhile."

She, once again is silent. "I haven't forgiven you," she says.

Japan sighs. "I expected as much," he says. "I am truly sorry for... what I did to you."

"You abandoned me!"

He cringes. "I... I had no choice. You were too far away, and..." she looks unconvinced. "I am sorry."

She swallows deeply. "Was it worth it?" she asks.

Japan blinks. He thinks of everything; of the war, of the defeat, of the shame; of what happened to his colonies, of what happened to him. Of the things he _did_, the horrible things he will never be forgiven for and how ultimately, none of it meant anything.

He knows the answer but, being himself, cannot give it.

* * *

_**1982**_

"I apologise for that."

She wishes to keep this formal, business-like. She doesn't want to be overwhelmed with emotion. She certainly doesn't want him to treat her with unnecessary sympathy.

"...It is fine..." And he is, as ever, lost as to what to do with her. No matter. She has nothing to do with him anymore; she supposes that is why they are here. Even his investments are gone, and of course he isn't happy about it. She is not happy with the revolution either, but the war is over and there is nothing to do now. It's unusual how she finds herself in that situation.

She sighs and places her hands on the table. "I will reimburse you for any losses you have made," _because you cannot afford to make losses, oh no, and I must pay for your suffering._ Japan continues to walk into the modern world and leave her behind, and there is no reason for her still to be affected by that but she _is_. While her people starve and are shot and flee from her land for the first time ever, not even under Italy did they do this, she can't help but be affected by it. _You said you would help me._

It is just like an ancient to be so preoccupied with ancient history.

"Thank you," he says and she can tell he wants to say more. "Ethiopia-san–"

"If that is all, I will be on my way," she says. "I have other business to deal with."

Of course she does. Because she is still here, still alive, still a nation. No matter what she suffers. _No thanks to you._

He nods. "Very well then. Good day, Ethiopia-san." And he bows to her before walking out.

* * *

_**2002**_

It has been a long time since he's come to her land, stood on the wide plains, in the hot wind. It's strange to find himself on African soil once again.

She sneaks up behind him. "Hello," she says. He smiles.

"Greetings, Ethiopia-san," and he turns to face her. They have come far enough she's willing to smile back at him.

"It's been awhile since I went and saw you," she says.

"Not too long," he says. "It has been longer since I came to see you."

She blinks, confused. "You know, I really do not understand you sometimes."

"I have been told I'm incomprehensible," and she chuckles at that. "It's just... I am sorry. But I want you to know, I shall not abandon you."

"Not again."

He winces. He casts his eyes over the open plains, seeming so much like his own land. Yet they had so much in common. How did they end up here?

"We could have been good for one another," he murmurs.

She sighs. "But we weren't."

* * *

**Historical Notes: **After the end of WWII (and after Ethiopia's independence was restored), Japan and Ethiopia reestablished diplomatic relations in 1955. Exchange of ambassadors followed three years later in 1958. Prior to the Ethiopian Revolution in 1974, Japanese investors were a major part of the Ethiopian textiles industry, after which those holdings were nationalised; the Ethiopian government settled claims by investors over losses in 1982 and 1983. The Ethiopian "Derg" government was known for their brutality, including deportations, violence and the use of hunger as a weapon; the situation wasn't helped by horrific famine in the mid 80's (caused by a combination of government actions and drought). Japanese aid to Ethiopia was restored after the fall of the Derg, and in 2002 the Japanese foreign minister visited Ethiopia.


End file.
